


Don't Be

by supernaturallylost



Series: Don't Be [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Crowley, Car Sex, Cheating, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, I swear there's an actual storyline, Implied Consent, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean have come up with a plan that they believe will help them, in a "the good outweighs the bad" kind of way. To keep Castiel ignorant of their plan to avoid his disapproval, Sam sends him on a wild goose chase. While Sam struggles with conflicted feelings about their plan, Dean secretly meets with Crowley.</p><p>['Don't Be: the Epilogue' has been posted.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tryst

Crowley sat down silently, looking at his cuticles.

‘I should get someone to do my nails,’ he thought, noticing each chip and flaw on them.

In front of him, the Winchesters worked obliviously. Sam cleared the room of empty beer bottles and old newspapers, shuffling nearby but never looking up. Dean walked close to the chair a couple of times as he replaced the television remote and bedsheets to their original locations. He, too, gave Crowley no notice.

‘I wonder if they do this at every hotel,’ Crowley wondered vaguely, stretching his fingers in front of him. He examined the unique twist of his pinky while Sam waved to Dean.

“I’m going to go checkout,” Sam said at the doorway. “Be out soon, okay? We should get a move on.”

When the door closed, Dean heard a soft rush of air and suddenly noticed a body where there had not previously been one. Crowley sat in Dean’s chair looking at his fingernails.

“Hello Dean,” Crowley smiled, turning his gaze.

Dean groaned and sat dramatically on the foot of the nearest bed.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Can’t a man just come and visit?” Crowley answered, raising his hands to the air. “It’s been a while since we last chatted.”

With narrowed eyes, Dean asked, “What do you want, Crowley? I don’t have time for this.”

“Well," Crowley said, standing up slowly, “I can wait until you’re ready. How’s tonight?”

Dean stood and tilted his head sarcastically.

“Pick you up at six?” Crowley grinned.

Dean simply reached down, grabbed his bag, and walked to the door. When he turned around in the doorway, he saw an empty hotel room. The door closed, sending a small breeze into the abandoned room. The petals of a red carnation moved in the wind innocently.

 

“I’m starting to regret this plan,” Sam said from the passenger seat. “Do you really think we can get away with it?”

“Which part?” Dean asked, deliberately focusing on the road.

“All of it,” Sam shrugged. “Cas wouldn’t be happy to know we’re doing this. And just think what Bobby would say.”

“They’re not here,” Dean grunted, gripping the wheel tighter. His knuckles were white from the pressure, but Sam didn’t notice. “Look, it’s up to us now. I think we’re doing the smart thing. If you’re having second thoughts, you better sort them out soon. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

Sam frowned and looked out his window at the sign for Des Moines, Iowa.

“Thirty eight miles,” he sighed. “Why are we stopping so early today? We could get to Topeka tonight if we wanted to.”

“I’d rather do this tomorrow,” Dean shrugged, still keeping his eyes on the road. “Besides, if you’re having doubts, I want you to figure it out before we get there.”

Sam said nothing.

 

When they arrived at the hotel, they found a single red carnation on the bed closest to the door. Dean walked over and rolled his eyes. Discreetly, he threw the flower into the garbage can and checked the clock.

“Sammy,” he called over the sound of the shower. “I’m going out for a while.”

“Are you bringing back dinner?” Sam shouted back. A second later, he yelled, “Agh!”

“You alright, Sam?” Dean asked casually, looking through his bag for a gun.

“Yeah, yeah,” came the answer. “Just got shampoo in my eyes.”

“You’re on your own for dinner,” Dean said, his voice turning unintentionally into a growl after he pulled a carnation from the barrel of his gun. “I’ll be back late. Get some sleep!”

Dean turned his back to the sound of Sam’s agreement and walked out of the hotel room. Leaning on the hood of his impala was the impeccably dressed demon he was just thinking about shooting.

“Hello, Dean,” Crowley smiled.

“Stop it with the flowers,” Dean growled, walking past Crowley and into the driver’s seat of his car. He started the engine, waited a moment for the demon to lumber inside, and then drove out of the parking lot.

“Dinner first?” Crowley asked, leaning against the car door so he could face Dean properly.

Though the sun was still up, streetlights were beginning to glow with a soft yellow light. The light perfectly highlighted the faint red undertone of Dean’s stubble. Though his green eyes glared at the road, Dean’s lips twitched upward at Crowley.

“Every time,” he whispered under his breath.

“What can I say?” Crowley shrugged. “I have a method and I stick to it.”

Dean sighed, reached over, and grabbed Crowley’s hand.

“I heard you boys plotting,” Crowley said lowly, looking down at Dean’s hand clamped over his. “What are you up to now? Another apocalypse?”

Hearing a note of casual concern in his voice, Dean turned and gave Crowley a patient smile.

“Worried?” he asked gently.

“Am I so wrong?” Crowley answered.

“Don’t be,” Dean said, stroking the back of Crowley’s hand with his thumb. “It’s nothing big.”

“You’re not going to kill my subordinates?” Crowley asked lightly, peering sideways at Dean.

“Only if they deserve it,” Dean answered honestly.

For the next ten miles, they sat in silence. Finally, they arrived at an abandoned farmhouse. Without words, Dean instructed Crowley to stay in the car. Then he walked around the hood and over to the passenger side. He opened the door with a sarcastic smile, offering his hand to help Crowley out of his seat. Crowley grimaced, flattered in spite of himself.

The two of them walked to the farmhouse, each pretending not to notice the light from inside. Just before Dean opened the door, Crowley stopped. He reached over to Dean’s hip and removed the gun. Gently, maintaining eye contact, he placed the gun in Dean’s hand. Dean appeared visibly shaken for a moment, but when Crowley wound his fingers through his belt loops, he was grounded.

After a moment of peace, Dean nodded. He opened the door.

 

“Sam.”

He shook in his chair and looked up at a confused angel peering at the computer screen. Sam cleared his throat and pushed down his laptop.

“What were those women doing to that man?” Castiel asked curiously.

“What are you doing here, Cas?” Sam coughed. “I thought you were keeping your ear to the ground about Metatron?”

Cas nodded. “It’s been quiet. I thought I would make sure you and Dean were making progress.”

“Progress?” Sam repeated.

“With the hunt for a lost angelic text,” Cas explained. “Remember?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, of course. Metatron hasn’t given anything away?”

“Of course not.” Cas paced over to the bed, inspecting each wrinkle on the comforter. “Metatron is too smart to give anything away. I’d hoped you would be farther than this. Did those women on your computer have something to do with it?”

“No, no, no,” Sam waved hurriedly. “No, don’t worry about them, Cas. Just, keep a watch on Metatron. If he lets anything slip, we need to know.”

Cas nodded. “Of course.”

With a rush of air, the angel was gone, leaving Sam with the quiet sound of someone being happily slapped.

 

Dean breathed heavily, looking all around the farmhouse.

Crowley smiled.

“Well done,” he said, sliding his hand over Dean’s back. “I love it when you do that.”

Dean watched the red stained hay shake in the wind from the doorway. Crowley snapped his fingers and the door slammed shut.

“You did something good,” Crowley cooed. He wrapped an arm across Dean’s shoulders, pressing his lips to Dean’s ear. “Let’s celebrate.”

Dean shook the demon’s hand away. “Here?”

Crowley smiled. “Why not? They won’t watch.”

Dean looked around at the audience. Twelve men, each with ballots showing twelve undressed women, were lying still on bales of hay. They stared in different directions, each wearing the same red splotches on their clothes.

“No,” Dean said firmly. “Not here.”

Crowley sighed. “As you wish.”

Dean returned his gun to its place in his waistband before grabbing Crowley’s hand and walking toward the door. Crowley looked backward once, just in time to see and hear the last living of the rapists spend his last breath saying, “Fuck you.”

 

Sam checked the clock at seven o’clock, and again at eight. Eventually, he gave up and left the hotel room to find some dinner. He walked across the street to a diner and spotted Castiel drinking a cup of coffee and conversing with the waitress.

Sam walked up slowly, shook his head, and sat down in front of him.

“Oh, and Maggie?” Cas said as the waitress turned away. “Can you bring another cup of coffee for my friend?”

“Tea, actually, please,” Sam said with a smile.

“You got it,” Maggie said, looking Sam up and down with a grin. When she left, she moved her hips a little bit more than usual.

“Cas, what are you doing?” Sam asked quietly.

“I believe it’s called a coffee break,” Cas said, stirring some more sugar into his cup.

“Cas,” Sam repeated, “what are you doing?”

Maggie returned with a cup of tea. She set it down, her hand lingering on the handle as she asked if they needed anything else. Sam shook his head with a smile, noticing that she’d put on lipstick. Slowly, she walked away.

“I haven’t heard anything about another angelic script,” Cas said casually. He took a sip of his coffee. “I have heard about a vigilante recently. He seems to be going after the ‘bad guys’ who’ve evaded the law.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Sam asked, dunking the tea bag exactly ten times.

“Fargo, Eden Prairie, Sioux Falls, and just tonight here in Des Moines.”

Sam waited for Cas to finish taking another drink.

“Do you know,” Cas said, “where Dean is right now?”

Sam leaned back in his chair, his brows furrowed. “You think he’s doing it?”

“You don’t?”

Sam frowned.

“Sam, we need to talk to your brother.”

 

In the impala, Crowley was sucking on Dean’s neck. Dean steered shakily, trying to get to a secluded spot fast enough. Crowley’s hands moved across Dean’s chest, lifted his shirt, and circled his abdomen.

Dean turned onto a dirt road and slid the car in between some of the trees. The second he took the keys from the ignition, his hands pushed Crowley hard against the car door. Dean slid forward and put his hands up against the roof of the car. When his lips smashed against Crowley’s, he savored the feeling of Crowley’s fingers trailing down his spine. Dean grazed his teeth over Crowley’s lip, forcing his mouth open.

Crowley smiled as his hands swirled down Dean, around his hips, to the button on his jeans.

“Can’t you just,” Dean moaned between kisses, “magic them off?”

Crowley laughed into Dean’s mouth, licking his lips as he unzipped his jeans.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Dean growled when he was pushed backward. He ripped off his shirt hurriedly and leaned back on his elbows so Crowley could remove his pants. After knocking his elbow against the steering wheel and nearly falling off of the seat, Dean couldn’t wait to steal the smile from Crowley’s lips.

Crowley stripped his jacket and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt before Dean came back with a vengeance. He ripped the shirt open, rushing forward and pressing hot, wet kisses to the base of Crowley’s throat.

Crowley placed his hands on either side of Dean’s head, lightly pushing him downward.

“Pants,” Dean said, licking from Crowley’s belly button down to the band of his pants.

Begrudgingly, Crowley pushed Dean backward again, stretched out his legs, and let Dean tear his clothes off.

With his pants thrown to the floor of the car, Crowley stretched his feet and braced them against opposite ends of the car window.

Dean bent down, lightly running his hands down Crowley’s thighs. With full eye contact, Dean licked his lips. Slowly, he let one hand gently fall down one side of Crowley’s erection. He wrapped his hand at the base.

“Yes,” Crowley nodded, leaning his head back against the window and closing his eyes. His fingers grasped Dean’s hair.

Dean’s other hand hooked under Crowley’s thigh, grabbing his ass. His fingernails raked against Crowley, pushing him upward. Suddenly, Dean’s mouth was on him.

Crowley pulled at Dean’s hair, pressing firmly onto his head. As Crowley’s breaths became shorter, Dean sucked. As his mouth moved on Crowley’s dick, his hand matched to the rhythm. Finally, a moan escaped Crowley’s mouth, and Dean moved his mouth off, still rubbing with his hand.

“Did you bring some?” Dean asked hoarsely, kissing Crowley’s hips.

Crowley nodded, his eyes still closed and his hips still pushing upward. He reached outward, grabbing at his suit jacket. Inside was a small bottle of lube.

 

“What do you think is taking him so long?” Castiel asked curiously.

Sam tapped his finger against his knee as he sat in the hotel room impatiently.

“Knowing Dean,” he said, “he probably found someone desperate at a bar.”

 

“Please!” Crowley groaned, pushing himself onto Dean’s two slick fingers. Dean grinned.

“Once more,” Dean said, adding a finger.

“Please, Dean!” Crowley said, pulling desperately at Dean’s shoulders.

Dean hiked Crowley’s legs around his waist, still rubbing his dick. He pressed against Crowley and made sure his partner was ready. Then, he pushed into Crowley’s ass. When he was inside, he waited for Crowley to get used to the stretch. Then, he began to move.

Crowley moaned and Dean threw his head back. Dean pushed forward, sliding Crowley back further against the door.

“Ah,” Crowley gasped, his head bumping against the window. His hands reached around Dean, urging him to continue.

Dean rammed forward again, pushing Crowley back again. Crowley retaliated by raking his fingernails along Dean’s back and shoulders.

Dean’s hands began to shake, losing rhythm. Crowley put his hand on top as a guide, putting his other hand in Dean’s mouth. Dean sucked on Crowley’s fingers, bit at them, and pushed into him again and again.

An unintentional shout left Dean as he pushed even harder and faster. He put his free hand against the window behind Crowley’s head, leaving a steamy, sweaty handprint on the glass.

While biting Crowley’s fingers, his hips became unsteady and he felt his belly grow warm.

“God!” Dean shouted, ramming into Crowley one more time before he came.

“Satan,” Crowley moaned, still rubbing himself. Dean joined the effort with a smile.

“Come on,” he said roughly. “Come.”

Crowley obeyed.

Dean closed his eyes with pleasure as the hot liquid hit against his chest and chin. As he brought them both back down, he leaned forward and licked the cum from Crowley’s neck.

“Never disappointing,” Crowley whispered, his voice cracking.

Dean just leaned back in the driver’s seat, breathing heavily and fogging the window.

“Better hurry back,” Crowley sighed, grabbing his pants from the floor. “Imagine what Sam would say.”

Dean frowned, looked over at Crowley, and reached out to touch Crowley’s neck.

“Tomorrow?” Crowley asked nonchalantly.

“Can’t,” Dean responded, moving closer. “Sam and I have a thing. Maybe the day after.”

Dean leaned in and kissed Crowley softly.

“It’s a date,” Crowley smiled. Then, without another word, he and his clothes were gone.


	2. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is confronted by Castiel and Sam.

When Dean got back to the hotel, he was surprised to see Cas and Sam waiting for him.

With a sigh, he said, “Guys, not now. I need a shower.”

“Where have you been?” Cas asked. He crossed his arms.

“Cas, not now,” he said, walking toward the bathroom.

“Dean,” Sam said, standing up.

“Shower,” Dean said firmly through gritted teeth. “Then talk.”

Sam sat back down in defeat. Cas stepped away sadly.

Dean quickly got into the shower, washed himself several times over, and stood under the water for a few minutes.

Meanwhile, Cas sat down on the bed.

“Does he…” He stopped.

“No, Cas,” Sam answered quietly. “He doesn’t cheat on you.”

“You said he probably found someone desperate,” Cas nodded.

“Dean would never do that to you, Cas,” he said weakly.

Cas eyed the carnations in the garbage can.

They sat in silence until they heard the shower stop. Cas bit his lip. Without a word, he stood, took off his trench coat, and walked to the bathroom. He turned the doorknob with enough strength to break the lock. When he got inside, he closed the door behind him.

“Dean,” he said softly.

Dean was sitting in the shower with his head in his hands.

Cas knelt down and examined Dean. There were scratches along his back and shoulders and hips, and there were very clear bruises along his neck.

Silently, Cas moved to sit beside Dean. He said nothing.

Dean shook for a few minutes. Quiet tears fell from his eyes as the steam from the shower slowly cleared. Cas’ warmth beside him, Cas’ smell around him, made him want to tear himself apart.

“Cas,” he whispered, finally turning with a clenched jaw.

“What do you need?” Cas asked genuinely. “Just tell me what you need from me. If you want to see someone else, I won’t stop you. We can end what we had if you need us to.”

Dean shook his head, tears falling faster.

“Dean,” Cas said. “It’s okay. I’m not going to force you to be with me if it makes you this unhappy.”

His head continued to shake.

“I know looking for these angelic texts has been hard on all of us,” Cas said. “I’ve been hoping something would turn up, too, but we just need to be patient.”

Dean grabbed his own knee so that his arms tensed and his shaking became less severe.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “I don’t like seeing you like this. It’s too much stress. Sam and I have been talking, and we know about your…”

Dean stopped moving and waited.

“We know you’ve been killing evil men.”

“I’m stuck,” Dean whispered brokenly. “I feel so empty every goddamn second and I can’t take it. Sometimes I just need to break, to take some of the darkness from the world and prove that there’s more than just evil inside of me, to prove I’m not just poison. He leads me to people who deserve to die. He lets me fall apart safely.”

Cas stopped breathing as he processed the confirmation. “You’re seeing someone.”

Dean nodded.

Cas wasn’t sure if he should stand up and leave. He’s heard of situations like this where the person in his role would storm off and destroy random objects. He’d also seen people fight dramatically to keep the person to themselves. They either seemed furious or desperate, but Cas didn’t feel that way. He felt concerned. He felt scared. He felt hurt.

“Do you want me to stay?” Cas asked.

Dean didn’t move.

“I don’t know what to do,” Cas said honestly. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to die,” Dean whispered. “There’s no fixing what I’m doing. When I need to take something down, he finds people who have gotten away with horrible things. Tonight, we went to slaughter a group of rapists. He gave me the gun and I killed them all. Twelve bodies, all staring at me.”

Cas’ mouth opened only to shut again.

“I thought I knew what I was doing,” Dean said. “I thought I was doing something good.”

Cas swallowed hard, hesitating.

“Dean,” he started. “It’s going to be okay. Just forget about him, okay? Forget about what you’ve been doing. Listen to me, Dean: you are good.”

“I killed them!” Dean whispered loudly. “I slaughtered them without a second thought. He was proud of me. He still had their blood on his clothes when we fucked!”

Cas winced. He leaned away from Dean, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed.

“I can’t do this,” Dean whimpered. “I don’t know who I am anymore. Sam and I made a plan that we thought could help a lot of people, but I got too far under it, and I’m stuck.”

“What plan?” Cas asked gently. “The angelic texts?”

“There are no fucking texts,” Dean said. His voice cracked. “We’re going to choose the permanent King of Hell. We found a way to make sure someone was the absolute ruler of hell, with no more disputes. All demons would be loyal to him no matter what. We’ve been trying to make Crowley the king of hell.”

Cas leaned backward with wide eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m fucking him,” Dean said, looking at his feet.

Cas said nothing.

“I fuck him. He leads me to people who deserve to die, I kill them, and then I fuck him.” Dean’s voice shook. “I thought if I fucked him, he’d be better about controlling his demons. I thought I was helping us. When he’s the king of hell, he’ll be more accessible to us. I thought I could have some influence on him. Instead, I just made a huge fucking mess.”

“How did it start?” Cas asked, not wanting the answer.

“A couple months ago, you said heaven was getting organized, but the demons were raging,” Dean answered quickly. “Sam and I thought about how we could get the demons under control, and it boils down to who’s leading them. We thought we could calm the chaos if we chose their leader. So I met with Crowley.”

“Sam knows?”

“He knows I want Crowley as the permanent king, but he just thinks the advantage is that Crowley is a known enemy. He deals with us from time to time, and we’re familiar with him and his tactics.”

“But he doesn’t know about your…” Cas stopped.

“No,” Dean responded. “No one does.”

There were a few moments of silence before Dean slammed his fist against the shower floor.

“What was I thinking?” he groaned.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. He reached slowly, shakily, over. When Dean didn’t move, Cas placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you dressed and get you to sleep. We can talk again after you’ve had some rest.”

“No!” Dean yelled, propelling himself forward until he was standing against the sink. He breathed heavily. “I can’t do this anymore!”

He scrambled at the cabinet behind the mirror, grabbing every bottle, every tube, every sharp point.

As Dean began twisting caps and squeezing knives, Cas calmly walked forward and touched two fingers to Dean’s head. Dean fell to the ground at the touch.

A few minutes later, Sam saw Cas carry a freshly clothed Dean out of the bathroom and lay him on his bed.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

Cas said nothing. He pulled the blankets up to Dean’s shoulders and stroked his wet hair from his face.

“Is he okay?”

Cas nodded. “He’ll be asleep until noon tomorrow.”

Sam nodded and rubbed his eyes. “What’d he say to you in there?”

“He told me what you’re planning to do with Crowley,” Cas answered lowly.

“Cas,” Sam began defensively.

“There are no angelic texts,” Cas said darkly. “You two were planning this without me because you thought I would get angry?”

“Well, we were right,” Sam answered, pointing at Cas’ glare.

“Yes, you’re right,” Cas responded. “What were you thinking?”

“Well,” Sam began.

“No,” Cas interrupted. “Since Dean will be sleeping for several hours, you and I need to revisit this plan and make some adjustments. I have some ideas.”

 

Dean woke up to the scent of fresh coffee.

“Cas went out,” Sam said from the desk across the room.

Dean blinked groggily. When he sat up, he felt the coolness of steel on his wrist. He looked down and saw a handcuff attached to the bedframe.

“What the,” he began.

“Cas’ idea,” Sam answered immediately. “He wanted to make sure you stayed safe until he got back.”

Dean looked around the bed, feeling under the pillows and around the edges of the mattress.

“No knives,” Sam said. “Have some coffee.”

Dean saw a styrofoam cup on the nightstand beside him. He felt around the bed again.

“No alcohol either,” Sam said as he walked over to the window. He peered through the blinds. “We’re cutting you off until we’re sure you’re good.”

Dean stuck a finger in his coffee. It was lukewarm.

“It couldn’t be too hot,” Sam sighed. “Cas was afraid it would burn you.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. He rubbed his neck and pulled at his hair.

Sam slowly walked over and sat down at the foot of the bed. He looked into his brother’s eyes, recognized the desperation, and frowned.

“Cas told me about Crowley,” Sam said softly. Dean’s eyes widened. “We still think making him the king is in our best interest.”

Dean frowned. “Cas agrees?”

“Yes.”

“Let me loose. We have to leave soon. We need to get to Topeka today.”

“Cas already took the impala there. He’ll wing us down when you’re ready.”

“Where is he now?” Dean asked, avoiding Sam’s eye.

“He’s getting an ordained hunter. We’re going to do an exorcism.”

“I’m not possessed,” Dean protested, scooting away.

“Maybe,” Sam answered. “But maybe you are and you just don’t know it.”

“Don’t be so stupid!” Dean spat.

“If you’re not possessed,” Sam said calmly, “the exorcism won’t hurt you. We just want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“Have you gone fucking crazy?” Dean shouted. “Let me out of these handcuffs and bring me back my car!”

Sam shook his head and stood up. He went to the window and peered through the blinds again.

“Cas should be back soon,” he said over the sound of Dean struggling in the handcuff.

 

The priest finished the exorcism quickly, leaving Dean soaked in holy water and fuming.

“I told you,” he growled. “I’m not possessed.”

The priest put away the holy water and sat down on the second bed, facing Dean.

“I didn’t just come for that,” the priest said. He waved to Sam and Cas, and they both left the hotel room. When the door closed behind them, the priest said, “I came to hear your confession.”

“What?” Dean said angrily, clenching his jaw.

“Your friend, Castiel, told me how you were feeling. He told me you were unsafe in your own skin. I am here to give you the opportunity to confess your sins, to share your pain, and to feel the grace of absolution. A confession is always private, and no one else need ever know.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean said, glaring at the door.

“Have you been talking about killing yourself?” the priest asked calmly.

“Of course,” Dean answered, “but talking to you won’t change a damn thing. You can tell me that every damn god out there has forgiven me and it won’t make a fucking difference.”

“I’m not here to offer the forgiveness of the gods. You are the person who can absolve you right now. Perhaps later on, you will believe in God our father. Until then, you need only your own blessing. I’m here to work you through this. I can sit here as long as you need me to.”

Dean said nothing.

“Now,” the priest said, leaning backward. “Tell me what ails you, and we will both pray for your forgiveness.”

Dean’s mouth opened.

 

Sam and Cas waited outside of the hotel room.

“Do you think he will confess anything?” Sam asked quietly.

“If I wanted to know, I could hear it. Confession is a private rite. It’s up to him if he will or won’t.” Cas turned to Sam and relaxed his mouth. “I do think he will, though, yes.”

Sam smiled.

“Did you find what you needed to find?” Cas asked.

“Yes,” Sam nodded. “There is a chance. For an hour after we do the ritual, Crowley will be mortal again. Completely vulnerable. If we kill him then, he can’t come back. If he makes it through the hour, he’ll be the king of hell.”

“An hour,” Cas repeated.

“Exactly an hour.”

“Dean will object,” Cas said, ignoring the break in his voice.

“Yes,” Sam said, “but it’s better for Dean if Crowley’s gone. He’s been messing with Dean’s head for weeks now. He may be partly cured, but Crowley’s still evil.”

“Sam. Do you think Dean loves him?”

“Absolutely not,” Sam answered quickly. “Crowley’s just in his mind, making him think he has to do these things. There’s no love in it, Cas. Dean only loves you. You know that.”

“I do,” Cas said. It sounded like a question.

 

“You are absolved in the eyes of the Lord our God, and you are absolved in your own eyes as well,” the priest said, moving his hand to make the sign of the cross in front of Dean.

He stood silently, walked to the door, heard a quiet “thank you”, and left the room.

Sam and Cas entered to see Dean rubbing his wrist where the cuff had been.

“Hey,” Dean nodded.

“Hey,” Sam said.

Cas simply stared, his lip quivering for a second. He gave Sam a look.

“I’m going to go out for lunch, I think,” Sam said suddenly. “I’ll see you two later.”

When Sam left, Cas walked over to Dean and sat down beside him.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. He raised his hand slowly, spinning his fingers in Dean’s hair.

Dean looked over at Cas and reached his hand over to Cas’ knee.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered.

“Don’t be,” Cas shook his head. He leaned forward slowly, waited patiently, and felt Dean gently fit their lips together.

They kissed softly, quietly. It was the kind of kiss a feather gives to the wind, or the kiss that the sun gives to the clouds. Cas ran his tongue gently over Dean’s bottom lip, making each of his movements expressions of deepest love.

“I don’t deserve it,” Dean whispered, shaking his head.

“I love you, Dean,” Cas said simply. “Do you love me?”

Dean’s eyes watered as he put a hand to Cas’ cheek.

“Forever,” he said. “I love you forever.”

Cas smiled. “Let me love you back.”

Dean smiled, tears in his eyes. He nodded, moving back on the bed. Cas took off his clothes quickly before helping Dean with his.

“Cas,” Dean said. He reached for Cas’ face and looked into Cas’ bright blue eyes. “Cas.”

Cas smiled, his eyes misting over. He leaned down, kissed Dean slowly, deeply, meaningfully.

“Cas,” Dean sighed, closing his eyes as a tear slid down his cheek. Cas kissed the tear, and then kissed Dean’s chin, his nose, his forehead.

“I love you,” Cas whispered. “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean’s lips shook and another tear fell.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean said. “I love you forever.”

For several minutes, Cas alternated between kissing Dean’s lips and kissing the secret spot just above his hip bone that always drove him crazy. Then his fingers washed down Dean’s sides and stroked his inner thigh the way he liked it. Dean rolled over when pushed, and Cas licked his spine, kissed his ass, and tickled the back of his knees. When Dean laughed, Cas almost cried. The laugh was natural, just like it used to be. Cas rolled his lover over and dove into a passionate kiss. This kiss was rain on the sidewalk, white caps on the ocean.

Eventually, Cas turned himself around on top of Dean. He put his knees on either side of Dean’s head and grabbed Dean’s dick with one hand. Then he wrapped his mouth around him, felt Dean do the same to him, and began loving Dean.

Dean came first, but Cas followed soon after. When they were calm enough, Cas turned around and moved beside Dean on the bed, wrapped himself around him, and kissed his shoulder.

“I love you,” Cas whispered, leaning his forehead on Dean’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Dean answered, stroking Cas’ back.

Cas’ eyes closed.

Dean stared darkly at the ceiling.


	3. A Final Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, and Cas finally arrive in Topeka , Kansas and prepare the ritual to make Crowley the absolute sovereign of hell. Things change suddenly, however, when Dean learns that Sam and Cas plan to kill Crowley when he is at his most vulnerable.

After a while of laying in Dean’s arms, Cas reluctantly left to get some lunch and to find Sam. Alone in the hotel room, Dean went to his bag and found a gun. He stared at it in his hands, stroked the barrel, traced the trigger.

‘I could do this now,’ he thought without emotion. ‘It could all be over.’

‘What about Crowley?’ he argued with himself. ‘We need him to be the king of hell. He’s the lesser of several evils.’

Dean lifted the gun to his head just to feel the coldness of it against his skin.

‘After he’s king, then,’ he bargained with himself as he closed his eyes. He slowly brought the gun back down. ‘Wait until after he’s king.’

Dean put the gun back into his bag and walked into the bathroom with the broken lock. He looked in the mirror at the dark circles under his eyes.

‘You care what happens to Crowley, don’t you?’ he asked himself quietly. ‘After being his little whore, you got used to him, didn’t you?’

He looked down into the sink and turned on the cold water. He opened the medicine cabinet and stared. It was empty. Dean closed his eyes and listened to the running water.

‘Don’t be weak,’ he thought to himself.

He was still standing at the sink when he heard the hotel door open. Cas and Sam walked in laughing, each carrying a take-out bag. Dean quickly turned off the sink and pretended to dry his hands. When he walked out of the bathroom, he stared at the bags of food.

“Burgers?” he smiled calmly. He sniffed at the air like he normally did. “Fries, too?”

Cas leaned in for a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom.

“We spoil you,” he called as he walked by. When he reached the bathroom and closed the door, he noticed that the medicine cabinet was open. Gently, with a frown, he closed it.

When Cas returned to the living room, Dean was smiling with half of a burger in his mouth and at least a quarter of a burger on his face.

“I love you,” Cas said casually. He sat down next to Dean and pilfered a couple of his fries.

Dean smiled in response as he took another huge bite of his burger.

 

Crowley walked beside a line of men and women. Next to him, a short blonde with a clipboard and pure black eyes smiled, happy to serve.

“Recent acquisitions?” he asked her.

“They begin here,” she answered promptly, pointing at a black-haired woman.

Crowley nodded, scanned the line, and found who he was looking for.

“Darling,” he said to her again, “could you take these twelve to the fun house?”

Twelve men stopped looking at the backs of the heads in front of them and instead focused on Crowley.

“I know you,” one man said. “You’re the one that had me killed. You brought me here.”

“No, love,” Crowley answered happily, “you did. I just gave you a little push. A dear friend of mine needed some sport, and you were so willing to volunteer. The deal you were willing to make with me… it was one of the best I’ve ever had.”

The woman beside Crowley gestured to the twelve men to move out of the line.

“Twenty eight accounts of rape each, on average,” the woman read off of a piece of paper. “I don’t think the fun house will be very much fun for you, I’m afraid.”

Crowley waved at them as they followed her away from the line.

 

Dean smiled when they arrived in Topeka and he saw the impala again.

“Baby!” He rubbed her hood and her trunk to say hello. “Oh, I missed you!”

Cas tried to smile, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Dean was too normal. As Dean caressed his car with the gentle fingers of a long lost lover, Cas turned to Sam.

“Does he seem off to you?” Cas whispered.

Sam looked Dean over and shook his head. “Not really. He’s acting like he usually does.”

Relaxed, Sam walked over and spoke to Dean happily.

“Acting?” Cas whispered to himself.

After kissing the roof of the car a couple of times, Dean rushed over and grabbed Cas around the waist.

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, misreading the worry in Cas’ eyes. “I love you just as much as I love her.”

Cas feigned relief.

 

Without a backwards glance, Crowley left hell in the hands of his record keeper. Once again on the surface, he took a deep breath of the disgustingly fresh air of the afternoon. In his hand, he held a fresh red carnation. He twirled it absently a couple of times, smiling in spite of himself.

 

“Why Topeka?” Cas asked the boys as they drove through the town.

After an inaudible sigh, Sam tossed a newspaper to the back seat. Cas read the front page story quickly.

“’Locals visit the fallen angel statue just outside of Topeka to celebrate anniversary of the fall from heaven.’ That doesn’t make any sense. Time didn’t exist when Lucifer fell. It would be impossible to give a date, let alone find the exact point of impact, which I assume is what the statue marks.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean explained. He tossed a brown paper bag into the back seat. “We’ve got angel feathers and red spray paint and a place people worship the devil. That’s all we need.”

“We need a place that’s close to hell, specifically close to Lucifer,” Sam explained. “This site is known for the statue. Whether or not it’s true is irrelevant. If enough people believe in it, the ritual should work. Judging by the ten thousand people that showed up to worship Satan last week, we think it will work just fine.”

Suddenly, Dean pressed down on the brake. Still in the middle of the road, he leaned forward and peered into the sky. Before Sam and Cas saw, the red smoke was gone. Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He unbuckled himself, opened his door, and walked in front of his car.

As traffic behind him tried to slide around the halted car, Dean walked to the hood of the impala. A second later, something landed with a dull thud on the car. Slowly, Dean lifted the red carnation and took a deep breath.

“Dean?” Sam asked from the passenger’s seat. His head was out of the window. “What is that?”

Dean’s mouth felt dry, but he tried to hide the discomfort.

“I’m going to have to meet you two there,” Dean said flatly. He tossed the carnation to the side and walked over to Sam. “Drive to the statue; I’ll bring Crowley there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sam whispered. He looked at Cas, who had winced, through the rear view mirror.

“Let him go,” Cas nodded lightly. “Someone has to bring Crowley, and he has no reason to trust either of us.”

With a sigh, Sam moved over to the driver’s seat. Cas looked up at Dean meaningfully. Without a second thought, Dean opened the back door of the car and reached in. He grabbed Cas’ face, pulled him into a deep kiss, and smiled.

“I’m alright,” he whispered.

“I’m worried,” Cas admitted as he ran a thumb over Dean’s jaw.

“Don’t be,” Dean smiled. “It’s going to be fine. You and Sam find the statue. Crowley and I will meet you there.”

Reluctantly, Cas nodded. He moved to the passenger seat and reminded Dean to be careful. When the impala started driving away, Dean walked toward the carnation again. He picked it up and walked off to the side of the road.

 

“Dean,” Crowley grinned when Dean had finally arrived at the hotel. “You kept me waiting a quite a bit longer than I thought you would. You’ve learned some restraint.”

Dean tossed the carnation he’d been holding onto the ground before walking obediently into Crowley’s open arms.

“I told you I was busy today,” he mumbled into Crowley’s shoulder, his eyes wide open and well hidden.

“I know, but I can’t wait. I need you.”

Crowley’s hands slid down Dean’s back, wrapped around his hips, and tucked into his waistband. Crowley’s head turned, his lips kissed Dean’s forehead, and his feet moved him back toward the bed. He took a moment to lightly graze his teeth over Dean’s earlobe.

“I want you,” Crowley said. “I’m not used to wanting things. This is really quite special what we have here.”

Crowley’s hands reached under Dean’s shirt and onto his bare back.

Dean closed his eyes and bit his cheek for a moment. Then he stepped backward, unintentionally hit the bed with the back of his knees, and shook his head.

“I’m not here to have sex with you, Crowley,” he said firmly. Crowley tilted his head. “I came because I want to make a deal.”

With an unreadable expression, Crowley crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“We found a ritual,” Dean began.

 

Cas had tapped his finger on his thigh, crossed and un-crossed his arms, paced forward and back again, and stretched his neck several times before Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He’d already single-handedly finished preparing half of the circle with complicated symbols drawn in red paint.

“If you’re that worried about it,” he snapped, “go and get Dean.”

After giving it consideration, Cas shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just concerned for him. He’s not as well as he acts, I know it.”

Sam sighed. “He’s fine, Cas. He ate a burger just like he always used to. You should be happy; you helped him get past all of that crap.”

A sound came from Cas that was the verbal form of both a shrug and a shaking head.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

 

Crowley’s tongue was in Dean’s mouth, his hands unbuttoning Dean’s shirt, his hips grinding into Dean’s hips, and his knees sliding between Dean’s knees.

“Crowley,” Dean whimpered when Crowley finally pulled away to focus on undoing Dean’s pants. “Is this really necessary?”

“We’re making a deal,” Crowley answered hoarsely. He pushed Dean’s pants to the ground and walked him backwards toward the bed. “Just think of it this way: you can be as rough with me as you want.”

Dean groaned as Crowley bit down on his neck.

 

“Cas, are you going to help me or not?” Sam said exasperatedly. He put his hands to his hips and pointed at the unused spray can in Cas’ hand. “If you’re not going to, I’m gonna need that can.”

Cas bit his lip and narrowed his eyes.

 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Dean breathed to no one. Crowley grunted against his abdomen in amusement and frustration. “I just want you to keep a tight leash on hell.”

Dean couldn’t think for a moment as Crowley’s mouth finally covered his dick. Hot and wet and well-practiced, Crowley’s mouth constricted and relaxed over and over as it moved up and down on Dean. Allowing impulse to guide him, Dean reached down and grabbed Crowley’s hair harshly, gripping it tight and pushing his head down further. When it became too much, Dean let Crowley crawl up his body, placing bite marks all over his chest. With his hands around Crowley’s hips, Dean pushed until he was lying on top. He leaned down and bit hard on Crowley’s collar.

“Yes,” Crowley moaned happily.

 

“Are we done yet?” Cas asked, glancing in every direction with the hopes of seeing Dean.

“Yeah,” Sam threw his hands in the air. He tossed the second can of paint away from him and rolled his eyes. “Cas, he’ll be here.”

 

 Crowley’s hands pinched Dean’s ass, his teeth bit Dean’s forearm, and his body clenched around Dean’s dick. Dean’s whole body shook. He felt warm and flushed and complete. He forced away thoughts of Cas, as well as the nausea and anger and guilt that were threatening to rise. He pushed past thought itself and rushed into Crowley until he could feel his elbows shaking. Crowley stopped biting and gently licked Dean’s arm.

“Come, Dean,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

Dean’s eyes squeezed closed and his head threw backward. He bit his lips to keep from making noise.

“It’s okay,” Crowley whispered as he gently kissed and sucked on Dean’s wrist. “It’s okay, Dean. Come.”

Though his eyes were closed, a tear escaped. It slid shamefully down Dean’s cheekbone before falling onto Crowley. Dean didn’t scream when he came. A sound more akin to a whimper came out while Dean pulled away from Crowley and fell down to the foot of the bed. Sliding onto the ground, he covered his face as Crowley took care of himself. When he finished, Crowley continued to lie on the bed.

“Well,” Crowley said while still breathing heavily, “we have a deal. You make me the king of hell, I’ll leave your brother and your boyfriend alone for as long as they both shall live.”

Dean nodded. His eyes were red and downcast as he shamefully put his clothes back on. He could still feel the scratches from Crowley’s fingernails on his waist, the heat from Crowley’s breath on his neck, the weight of Crowley’s body leaning over his. He could still feel his own hands slapping Crowley’s flesh, scratching into his waist, pushing down on his throat. He shivered guiltily before standing up.

“Are you coming?” he asked without looking.

Crowley, already fully clothed, grabbed Dean’s elbow possessively from behind and whispered into his ear.

“Only for you,” he said. He moved closer to Dean’s face, placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, and grinned. “I know you said you were only using me, Dean, but I’m not convinced.”

In a burst of wind, he and Dean disappeared.

 

“They’re here,” Cas smiled with relief. “I can sense them.”

Exactly one minute later, the two men approached the grave of the fallen angel, arm-in-arm. Cas deliberately focused on Dean’s eyes.

“Well,” Crowley grinned, “hello boys.”

An awkward silence followed.

“Tough crowd,” Crowley mumbled to Dean. Then, louder, “How does this work?”

After clearing his throat, Sam said, “All you have to do is go into the circle and wait. I’ll say the incantation.”

“Better let squirrel do it,” Crowley said pointedly as he nodded toward Dean, “just so I know there are no tricks.”

Dean swallowed hard. Keeping his eyes fixed on the area just left of Sam and Cas was the only way he wouldn’t give anything away. Still, he felt his chin tremble with the beginnings of panic. He clenched his jaw firmly, telling himself, ‘You only have to make it until Crowley is king.’

“I’m going to read it,” Sam said firmly. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow as he dropped Dean’s arm. “Whose idea was this ritual?”

Sam glared.

“That’s what I thought,” Crowley smiled. “I’d rather the person who suggested it be the one to execute it.”

Cas slowly took the paper from Sam and stepped toward Dean. Crowley snatched it, saying simply, “I’m proofreading. Just in case, you understand.” When he gave his permission, he handed the paper to Dean for him to read aloud, walked himself to the center of the circle, and waited patiently with his hands behind his back.

“I’m ready,” Crowley smiled at Dean. “Give it to me hard.”

Dean winced, sensed Cas stiffen, and turned down to stare at the paper. After a second, his voice drifted from his mouth like a whisper on the wind. The incantation was short, the words easy. Soon, Crowley’s eyes became solidly red. He began shaking as he stood, upright as if a magnet was pulling at his spine.

When Dean finished the incantation, he watched as Crowley shook. Then he heard the ringing of metal rushing through the air. He turned.

Cas’ eyes held the fury of centuries as he leered at Crowley. In his hand was a newly summoned angel blade. When Dean looked past Cas and to Sam, he saw another blade drawn and ready.

“Cas?” he whispered. “Sam? What are you doing?”

“He’s been manipulating you, Dean,” Cas said calmly, still glaring terrifyingly at Crowley’s shuddering body. “He’s just another demon, and he needs to be stopped.”

“He’s an advantage for us,” Dean argued. He moved toward Cas with his arms held out in front of him. “We have the power to choose the person who rules over hell. Don’t throw this opportunity away!”

“It was a good plan,” Sam conceded, “but he’s gone too far. Do you remember all of the people Crowley found for you to kill? Who do you think corrupted them in the first place?”

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“It’s true,” Cas growled lowly. “I researched all of the people he let you kill; they’d all made deals with him just beforehand.”

“He’s just playing with your brain, Dean,” Sam said. “He’s just a demon.”

Crowley’s eyes slowly began fading into their natural color again.

“You can’t kill him,” Dean said, stepping into the circle. He stood in front of the prone demon. “He’s our chance to get a grip on the demons once and for all.”

“And when he finds out what you’ve been doing?” Cas snapped, turning forcefully to Dean. “What then, Dean? What happens when he realizes you’ve been using him?”

“He already knows!” Dean shouted. “I told him what I was doing; he knows everything!”

“He knows? So what does he want from you?” Sam asked. “He’s still here, so he must want something from you still.”

Dean stood in wide-eyed silence.

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “Don’t be a fool. Crowley won’t ever let you go. He’ll threaten you, he’ll blackmail you, he’ll do whatever it takes. You can’t escape from him, Dean.”

“This is the best option,” Sam said. He flipped the blade in his hands.

Dean turned over his shoulder and looked into Crowley’s almost human eyes. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, “Run.”

Within one second, Crowley’s arm reached out to Dean. They both disappeared.


	4. The King of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this, the final chapter, Dean, Sam, Cas, and Crowley are each finally able to confront each other. Will Dean end his life as he had planned, or will someone find a way to stop him?

Dean moved hazily. Crowley was lying still on the ground, having used all of his energy moving them. Dean grabbed a knife from his pocket and cut along his forearm. He used the blood to draw angel wards on the trees around him.

“Dean,” Crowley said weakly.

“Shush,” Dean answered. “You’re vulnerable right now.”

“For an hour,” Crowley nodded. “I know. I’ve seen parts of that incantation before. But that’s not what I want to know.”

“I don’t care what you want to know,” Dean said, his eyes glazed over and his motions calm. “You just need to stay safe for an hour, and then you can focus on keeping our deal.”

Knowing what came next gave Dean serenity. He moved quickly, efficiently, and smoothly. In his mind, he heard only silence. For the first time in a long time, he knew peace.

“Dean,” Crowley interrupted. “It was never just sex.”

Dean stopped mid-motion. He turned and looked at Crowley, lying still on the ground, trying to catch Dean’s eye. He had a look of vacancy in his eyes, partly delirious from exertion.

“I knew what you were doing when it started,” he confessed lowly.

Dean’s hand fell to his side and his brow furrowed.

“I let you do it because,” Crowley said, “I was curious. I wanted to understand. Humans are always wishing for love.”

When he regained his voice, Dean whispered, “I never loved you, Crowley. We were just using each other. It meant nothing.”

Crowley shrugged. “To you, maybe. To me, it doesn’t matter what the truth was. All that matters is that, because of you, I understand. I felt loved.”

 

Cas fell to his knees and stabbed the ground repeatedly.

“He chose Crowley?” Sam whispered to himself.

“I’ll kill Crowley,” Cas growled. “I’ll kill him!”

 

“Remember our deal,” Dean said simply. He began walking away, still confused by Crowley’s confession.

“Where are you going?” Crowley asked, leaning up onto his elbows weakly.

“I’ll be back to check on you,” Dean lied easily. “Just stay in these trees so they can’t find you.”

“Be careful, Dean.”

 

Dean walked absently. He relaxed the more he walked, and he began appreciating the last moments of his life. The wind nipped at his skin, the leaves crunched beneath his feet, and the sound of rushing water beckoned to his ears.

‘I’m coming,’ he responded to the call. His legs turned toward the river. He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on a fallen log. He moved on.

Time moved slowly and quickly, each second lasting forever yet still passing too soon. Dean noticed each unique pitch of the different birds as they found safe places to sleep. He noticed the different smells that accompanied the shift from daytime into the night. As the light faded, he even noticed a thousand shades of orange and red that he’d never really appreciated.

On his quiet, dedicated march, Dean understood that his subconscious was bickering. He tuned out the sounds of worry, suppressed the feeling of panic, and compelled his body forward. Still, in the back of his mind, he felt doubt.

‘Crowley would never keep a deal like that,’ one thought shared.

‘Especially not once you’re gone,’ another thought added.

‘Sam and Cas are right. He’s manipulating you. When you’re gone, the deal will be void. He’ll go after Sam and Cas and wipe out all of his opposition. The demons will run free over the earth like water when the levee breaks.’

Dean’s shoulders stretched in circles as he continued calmly onward.

‘When you’re gone, no one will be there to keep Crowley in check. Sam and Cas will be too angry to be rational; they’ll probably get themselves killed along with you.’

‘What if Sam tries to bring you back? Did you think about that? You should have asked Crowley to never allow you back. He might have agreed. After all, you were his plaything for a long time. He even admitted to being fond of you.’

He took a deep breath, a smile of peace spreading on his lips as he ignored his inner turmoil. Adrenaline pumped through him, his ears pulsed with a quick heartbeat, but his steps were sure and steady as he moved toward the sound of rushing water.

‘Were you fond of him? Did you ever feel love with him?’

‘No, that was a task. Nevermind that Crowley wanted to leave marks and to be marked, he was willing to help when you needed something to hunt, and he gave you a release that Cas could never give to you.’

‘Cas.’

The thought creeped into his attention.

‘What will Cas do?’

Dean stopped moving for a moment, remembering Cas. Cas, bending on top of him, loving Dean as Dean loved him. Cas, worried for him at all hours but still maintaining distance. Cas, watching him with love in his eyes even when he knew Dean was lying.

‘Cas.’

‘He knows what you’re going to do,’ his mind told him. ‘It was in his eyes; fear. He’s concerned for you, even when you say you’re fine.’

Dean imagined Cas with him now. His blue eyes would gaze unabashed into his soul, trying to find a way to express the love exploding inside of him. His lips would half smile and half frown as he tried to determine whether humor or frankness would be the best course of action. His hand would slide gently into Dean’s, curling fingers around fingers, stroking the back of Dean’s hand and soothing him without any words.

‘Cas.’

Finally, the trees thinned in front of him, and he saw the river.

 

“I can’t sense them,” Cas groaned. He kept his fingers pressed to his temple as he tried to connect to Dean’s thoughts. “Where are they?”

“We’ll find them,” Sam grunted. While Cas worried, Sam held the wheel of the impala and drove. He felt ridiculous as he drove around, trying to find a good telepathic signal for Cas. The angel blade was still in his hand, just in case.

 

A bridge stretched out across the rushing river. So violent was the water that splashes reached even through the metal railing and across the edges of the wooden flooring. Dean swallowed hard and withdrew his knife once again from his pocket.

In one swift motion, he forced the knife downward.

The knife hit the wood of the bridge, chipping it. Dean slashed at it again. For several minutes, Dean etched into the floor of the bridge. Then, he walked over to the end of the bridge where a small stretch of stonework was still exposed from the bridge before it was repaired with wood. He reached into his pocket again but found only a lighter.

“Looking for this?” came a weak voice.

Dean looked up and saw Crowley leaning palely over the bridge railing, holy oil in hand. Dean said nothing but clenched his jaw.

“Dean,” Crowley said simply. He left his questions unasked and his thoughts unsaid. Crowley didn’t ask what Dean was thinking, why Dean would trap his angel in a ring of fire, why he would carve a trap onto the bridge to trap his brother, when he decided this was his only option, what brought him to this solution, or why he was still standing stately several feet away. No, Crowley didn’t say any of these things. All he said was one word. Simply, earnestly, gently, firmly. “Dean.”

Slowly, Dean moved forward. He stopped five feet away.

“You need rest,” Dean whispered. “It’s not safe here. They can find us now that you’re away from the wards.”

Crowley reached shakily down and revealed a strange symbol on his hand.

“I can hide when I need to,” he said simply, still holding the holy oil in front of him.

Dean eyed the vial of oil.

“Is it so they can’t stop you?” Crowley asked genuinely. “The traps, I mean.”

Dean waited a moment before answering. Then, he nodded. His eyes fell, his head became as heavy as a mountain, and the world on his shoulders threatened to finally crush him.

“I don’t know what you would accomplish,” Crowley said. “Sam would come after you once you died, and Cas, too.”

Something important sat in the air silently, invisible but directly in front of their eyes.

“I don’t want this,” Dean admitted, ignoring the stale silence. “I don’t want us. I don’t want to be your toy.”

“Then don’t be,” Crowley shrugged. He dropped his hands to his side. He struggled to phrase his thoughts. In the silence, Dean could almost see what had been left between them. Then, he heard Crowley’s quiet, guilty, surprised, and frightened confession. “I just want you to be happy.”

Dean’s eyes went wide as he backed into the railing of the bridge.

“Crowley?” Dean hesitated, sliding his hands onto the rail.

“If you jump,” Crowley threatened, “I will fall right in after you and pull you back out.”

“You’re mortal for the next ten minutes,” Dean whispered. “You’d die, too.”

Crowley dropped the holy oil to the ground and climbed weakly onto the railing.

“Don’t!” Dean said, reaching out.

Crowley wobbled unsteadily on the railing for a moment before he nodded.

“Now do you believe me?”

“Crowley, get down!” Dean said. He stepped forward.

“Promise me you won’t do this,” Crowley spoke under his breath. “Promise me.”

Dean shook his head.

“Then I will wait,” Crowley said. “When you jump, I’ll bring you back.”

“Crowley, stop,” Dean pleaded. “I’m not amused.”

“You shouldn’t be; I’m not joking.”

Dean’s eyes begged as his hands reached gently forward.

“I can’t promise,” Dean said as tears appeared in his eyes. “I’m scared. I don’t want to be who I’ve been.”

“Then don’t be,” Crowley responded. He reached out and grabbed onto the railing ahead of him, scratching his palm. “You don’t have to be, so don’t be.”

 

“Got them,” Cas growled. Sam had barely stopped the car when Cas reached over and transported them to where he sensed Crowley.

 

“That’s not how it works,” Dean almost yelled.

“Yes it is!” Crowley responded. “You don’t have to be you. You can be anyone.  Demons are greedy, angels are proud. That will never change. But man? Man is brilliant. Man is so intelligent he has created several faces for himself. You can change. It is your nature to never be the same person twice in a row.”

“I don’t know how,” Dean choked. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Then I’ll fight for you until you do,” Crowley whispered.

Suddenly, Sam appeared. He tripped over the woodwork of the bridge. By the time he steadied himself, several events had occurred.

First, Cas had screamed Crowley’s name as loudly as a tornado. Then, Cas had rushed forward, knife in hand, and grabbed onto Crowley’s ankles, still on the railing. When Dean realized what was happening, he screamed Cas’ name over everything else. Finally, he shoved Cas away from Crowley, but not before he could push Crowley from the bridge.

Sam’s brow furrowed. At first, he couldn’t register what he was seeing. He heard a splash into the water below, saw a shadow rush in front of him, and heard a second splash shortly after.

“Dean!” Cas screamed over the railing. Just before he, too, could leap over the rail, Sam grabbed onto his shoulder.

“Cas,” Sam gasped. He looked down at his own chest and saw a thick chip of wood poking out from inside of his gut. Blood was pouring from the wound.

One of Cas’ hands flew to his hair, just like Dean used to do when he panicked.

“Sam,” Cas stared with eyes wide, “hold still.”

“How did this happen?” Sam coughed. More blood leaked from the wound.

Cas stared at the woodwork of the bridge and shook his head.

“This is a trap,” Cas answered, conflicted. “It looks like Dean made this trap for someone.”

“Was he,” Sam began. He gasped before falling down to the ground. When Cas leaned down after him, Sam finished his sentence. “Was he afraid of Crowley?”

Cas looked at the railing of the bridge.

“No, Sam,” he said brokenly. “This trap was for us.”

 

The water seemed limitless. There was no bottom or top or middle or end. The water was everything and everywhere. Dean felt the water in his ears, his nose, his mouth. He felt the chill of it squeeze around his chest, constrict over his throat.

With all of his strength, Dean forced his eyes open to gaze through the darkness. Drifting away from him in the current, he saw a dark figure.

Dean waved his hands under the water, trying to find some sense of direction. Then, he propelled himself forward.

‘Don’t be dead,’ Dean thought.

He saw Crowley’s hand reaching limply in the water.

‘Don’t be dead.’

Dean forced himself through the water. His lungs burned, desperate for air. His arms ached, desperate for warmth.

Crowley’s fingers twitched when Dean grabbed onto his wrist.

‘Safe,’ Dean thought triumphantly.

With Crowley in hand, he searched for a light. The top of the river was lost. Dean couldn’t see the way out.

 

“It’s okay,” Cas reassured Sam. “I’m going to take the wood out and then heal you. I have to take it out first.”

Sam was sweating through his shirt, but he nodded anyway. “Do it.”

When Cas touched the wood, Sam winced involuntarily.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered as he got a grip on the stake.

“Don’t be,” Sam answered softly. “Do it now.”

Cas nodded.

 

Dean could feel the blackness pulling him away from himself. He could feel his mind drifting loosely from his body as they broke apart. Suddenly, Dean understood that he was dying. Crowley, too, was breaking in Dean’s grip.

 

Sam screamed. Immediately, Cas’ hand reached onto his forehead and a wave of cool light washed over him. The light gleamed as brightly and purely as a star as it healed Sam’s wound.

 

Just when Dean was ready to accept what was happening, just as he knew the hour of Crowley's mortality was ending, he saw blue. Underneath him, the blue light shined through the water.

‘Cas,’ he thought.

His legs were stiff and sore. His throat was locked and aching. With every ounce of willpower he had remaining, Dean forced his body toward the light.

His arm wrapped around Crowley and pulled him up to the surface before he, too, rose above the waves.

The air was no friendlier to him than the water as it scratched its way into his throat. The air acted like a flame against his skin, making him even still colder than before.

“Dean!” he heard from above.

The blue light had faded, and Cas was peering down from the bridge. Before he could jump down to save anyone, however, Dean felt himself being lifted from the water by something strong and warm and very much alive.

“Crowley?” he coughed.

 

Crowley dropped Dean lightly onto the bridge and backed away. Cas was immediately bent over, ministering to Dean’s skin. Cas touched Dean’s neck and forehead and chest, trying to force warmth into him.

“Use your mojo,” Crowley suggested with an air of forced boredom.

Cas didn’t have time to curse Crowley to hell or reach for his knife. Instead, he leaned down and kissed Dean’s lips.

 

The blue light grew around the kiss, entering Dean’s body gently, healing as it moved. Cas ran his tongue over Dean’s bottom lip and Dean reached up to grip Cas’ jacket.

 

When the kiss ended, Cas could plainly see the tears on Dean’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean said hoarsely. His voice cracked as his fingers stroked Cas’ hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Sh,” Cas said. “It’s going to be okay, Dean.”

“Dean,” Sam said, reaching out for his brother’s hand. “Dean, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I love you, Cas,” Dean said. He turned to Sam. “Sammy…”

“I know,” Sam answered softly.

 

“Well,” they all heard. “This has been quite touching, but I have a kingdom to rule.”

Dean, Cas, and Sam all looked at Crowley’s retreating back.

“Wait,” Cas said.

With his back still turned, Crowley shook his head.

"May we never meet again," he whispered.

He disappeared into the darkness.

 

A week passed.

Dean splashed his face with water. Cas and Sam were just outside the door eating breakfast. He sighed. Suddenly, something red caught his eye.

“I know you said to stop it with the flowers,” Crowley said quietly while looking at his cuticles, "but your room could use a little pop of color.”

Dean forced his smile into secrecy and turned, stone-faced, to Crowley.

“What do you want?” he said. Though he tried to hide the happiness from his lips, the gleam was trapped in his eyes.

“I just wanted to see you once more,” Crowley said, looking up at Dean with a smile. “I need you to know that we’re even now. I’m the King of Hell, and I will keep my promise. I will leave your brother and your boyfriend alone.”

Dean finally relaxed his shoulders and let his smile show.

“Crowley,” he said softly. “Thank you. I’m grateful.”

“Don’t be,” Crowley shrugged. With a smile, he stood. Looking deep into Dean’s eyes, he said, “If you ever realize that your boyfriend isn’t as good as me, I’ll clear my schedule.”

Dean smiled, nodded, and held the carnation in his hands.

“I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open for it,” he said.

A final gust of air ruffled the petals of the flower and left the sound of one word:

“Do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave notes if you have any!


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